My Big Fat Clanker Wedding
by tridecagirl
Summary: Deryn has been invited to Alek's wedding. There's just one problem - she's not the bride.
1. Chapter 1

**[I'm sure I **_**epically **_**screwed up the titles. Sorry. And I made the other girl up, so yeah… just enjoy the story and don't get hung up on whatever discrepancies there may be.]**

'You are cordially invited to the wedding ceremony of Archduke Aleksander Ferdinand, Prince of Austria-Hungary and Bohemia and Princess Maria de l'Islena of Spain.'

Deryn looked up. "Is this your idea of a joke?" she demanded.

Alek shifted uncomfortably. If it was possible, he was even more handsome then when she'd last seen him, five years ago, when he'd told her they couldn't be together and left her alone as she tried stubbornly to keep her tears from showing. And, just like last time, the sight of him tore a hole in her heart that she'd thought had nothing left to tear. "No."

Deryn crumpled up the fancy parchment and threw it at him. It bounced off and rolled across the floor. "Why on earth did you ever think it would be a good idea to invite… me… to… your… barking… wedding?" With each word she advanced on him, glaring up into his eyes. He was taller than her now, she realized.

"I wanted to give you the chance," he said quietly. "I didn't want to make another mistake."

"Oh, you're not the one who made the mistakes," she said. "That was all me. And the daftest one of all was falling in love with a bumrag like you!" She shouted the last part, and was glad to see him wince. But he couldn't be hurting as much as she was. "I saved your life so many times, and you abandoned me," she spat. "I should have let you die." They were empty words, and she knew it. She could no more have let him die than stop her own heart from beating. Even after all these years, she hadn't stopped loving him, any more than she'd loved anyone else. She was just doomed, she supposed. "You broke my heart. I'm not going to let you do it again. Get out. Just get out."

"Deryn," he said, pleading.

"Get out!" she screamed, and punched him. Maybe it would spoil his wedding pictures. He left, with one last backward glance. She responded with an eloquent gesture.

She'd been a complete ninny, falling in love with someone she couldn't have.


	2. Chapter 2

She went, of course, even though she knew it would just make everything hurt more. She sat near the back, quietly watching. The groom was handsome as always, although to her quiet satisfaction, the ghost of a black eye shadowed his features. She thought she detected some sadness in both his eyes, but maybe that was wishful thinking. The bride… she was well enough, Deryn supposed, but she was missing something. The flair, perhaps, to disguise herself or start a revolution.

As the ceremony started, she knew that attending had been a mistake. With every word binding Alek and Maria closer together, she felt a little worse. A tear trickled down her cheek – she wiped it away angrily with a white gloved hand.

The movement caught Alek's eye. She saw him look over, his lips form the question _'Deryn?' _Then, to her complete shock as well as everyone else's, he walked over. The priest stared. The bride frowned. And Deryn was completely speechless.

"Why'd you come?" he asked quietly, like it was just the two of them. Like there wasn't a barking church full of people all staring at them, wondering why in the bloody hell the groom had just up and left to chat with some stranger.

"I don't know," she finally answered, when she'd recovered enough to talk.

"I just… I can't…" he protested, looking ready to justify himself to her. Like she wanted that.

She held up a hand to stop him. "You're not the man your father was," she said quietly. Then she stood up and picked her way across confused guests to the aisle.

From behind her, she heard the priest ask, "Your Highness? Shall we continue?"

She felt Alek pause and resolutely continued her course for the door. Then she heard him speak.

"No."

Deryn stopped dead.

"I'm sorry," Alek continued, "but there won't be a wedding today."

A restless murmur filled the crowd as Deryn, not daring to believe, turned around. To her astonishment, she saw the bride smile and mouth _'Thank you.'_

"I apologize for the inconvenience," Alek told Maria, "but I can't marry you."

"It's all right," she said cheerfully. "You seemed terribly gloomy anyway."

Alek blinked. "Well… all right then." He looked at Deryn questioningly.

Deryn stared back. So many emotions were all mixed up inside her now as her heart struggled to catch up. This was all so confusing…

And as if to highlight her inner turmoil, she inexplicably burst into tears.


	3. Chapter 3

"This hasn't gotten any funnier," Deryn said, waving the invitation through the air irritably. She'd read the first line – 'You are cordially invited to the wedding ceremony of Archduke Aleksander Ferdinand, Prince of Austria-Hungary and Bohemia' – and given up. "Haven't you learned _anything_?"

"You have to attend this one," Alek said patiently.

"Oh really? Well, you'll have to drag me kicking and-"

"Just finish reading it."

"What?" Miffed at her tirade being cut short, Deryn sighed and skimmed it, her eyes protesting at the oversized flourishes that royals seemed to love. 'You are cordially invited to the wedding ceremony of Archduke Aleksander Ferdinand, Prince of Austria-Hungary and Bohemia and _Deryn Sharp_'

Oh.

She looked back at Alek only to see, with a moment of pure and blinding panic, that he was down on one knee.

"This is not happening," she muttered.

"Deryn," he said, "I've been a dummkopf, a ninny, and a daft barking idiot, mostly all at the same time. I never should have treated you the way I did. But I'm asking you to forgive me-"

"Oh," she said, someone relieved. "So the whole knee business is just-"

"-and to marry me."

Drat. "Isn't this rather barking sudden?"

He shook his head. "I never should have taken this long."

"Well, in that case…" she bit her lip. "You know all the other royalty will laugh at you. And Volger will _murder_ me. And we'd probably just get assassinated…"

"Deryn," he said patiently.

"Oh, of course I'll marry you," she said. "Why on earth did you even bother asking?"

"Because I'm a dummkopf, a ninny, and a daft barking idiot, remember?" Then he stood up and kissed her, which, she thought giddily, he should have done a long time ago.


	4. Chapter 4

It turned out, weddings were _complicated_. And if you were heir to the throne of Austria-Hungary and had left your last fiancée at the altar, and your new fiancée had been an illegal member of the Air Force for three years, things just got worse.

Of course, Alek hadn't taken a very active part in planning the last one. More like an active part in avoiding it, ducking out of rooms at any opportunity and disappearing for hours at a time. This was mostly an effort to get away from Maria – distance made it easier for him to ignore the fact that he didn't love her, and never would. But this time he was right in the thick of it.

Deryn tried to pronounce a name from the guest list, her tongue tripping over the unfamiliar symbols, her Scottish accent putting emphasis on all the wrong syllables. When Alek burst out laughing, she gave up in despair. "Why am I doing this again?" she demanded.

"Because you love me," he suggested, "and I love you, and we might as well stop being dummkopfs about it."

"Aye, I suppose you're right."

The last few years had been hard for her, he knew. Her secret had come out two years back in a rather spectacular fashion, and she'd been sent off the Leviathan in disgrace. She'd spent the next two years stubbornly living by herself in London, working as an assistant to Dr. Barlow, the only one who would hire such a scandalous young woman.

His life must seem garish in comparison, Alek supposed. Five years of diplomacy and lavish parties, living in luxury while she struggled to pay her rent. But underneath it all he'd been continuously miserable, guilty for betraying his best friend.

He still remembered that night clearly, for all that it was five years ago. Volger had thrown a celebration in New York City to commemorate Alek's acceptance as the official heir. Deryn – he'd known her as Dylan then – had slipped outside to a small balcony, staring up at the stars. He'd followed him.

"Not as good as flying, is it?"

"What?" He'd looked around guiltily, and to his surprise there were a few tear tracks on his cheeks.

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "I can't tell you."

"Come on, it can't be that bad," he encouraged, sitting next to him. "I've told you all of my secrets."

"Do you promise?" Dylan asked. "Not to be angry?"

"Of course."

The boy sighed. "The truth is… I'm a girl."

"What?" It made sense though, once Alek had thought about it. A million clues, fitting into place all at once. And maybe part of him had always suspected. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She stared out into the night, not meeting his eyes. "Because I'm in love with you. And I know it can never work."

Alek shivered in the cold air. She was right. Now, as the official heir, he had a duty that was more important than either of them. He had to see it through. "You're right," he said, standing up. "It can't." And he walked inside to rejoin the party. He didn't look back.

What a bastard he'd been.

"Alek?"

"Hmm?" He was jolted back to reality by Deryn's voice.

"Volger wants you," she said, and raised her eyebrows.

Oh dear. "All right," he muttered. "Here goes nothing."


	5. Chapter 5

"You know, of course, that I do not approve," Volger said stiffly.

"You've made that quite clear," Alek agreed, "but I've made my own decision."

His one time fencing instructor nodded, an odd look in his eyes. "Congratulations."

Taken aback, Alek frowned. "Excuse me?"

"If you're really going to be an emperor, you can't do what other people tell you all the time. Now, _some_ obedience would be appreciated."

"Is this approval?" Alek asked cautiously. "In a vague and roundabout manner, of course?"

Volger shrugged. "Your mother was a lovely woman, Aleksander. She brought you a lot of pain, but she brought your father a lot of happiness. Make of that what you will. But your foolhardy actions have led to a rather unexpected result. Follow me."

Volger led him to a window that overlooked the street outside the hotel. There was a sizable crowd outside. When they saw Alek looking out, they started to cheer.

"What on earth?" Alek asked. "I'm a Clanker. I'm not _that_ popular."

"But _she_ is. You see, even though officials are displeased with her, ah… Miss Sharp has become a bit of a hero to the common people." Volger shook his head wearily. "Who would have thought? A common girl wins you the support of more than a properly bred princess. These are strange times."

"So I didn't ruin absolutely everything," Alek said happily.

"You didn't do any of this on purpose," Volger reminded him.

"Perhaps, but still…" Alek looked out at the crowd and smiled. Perhaps he wasn't such a dummkopf after all.

Deryn was chewing on a pen when he came back in. "Do you reckon we should invite Lilit?" she asked.

Alek frowned. "Would she try to kiss you again?"

"I think that was a one time deal. And if I remember properly, you encouraged her." Deryn drew a question mark next to Lilit's name. "She's probably busy running Istanbul anyway." Absently she stroked Bovril's graying fur. The loris had been inseparable from her since she'd gotten there, always on her shoulder or in her lap.

"He missed you," Alek said unnecessarily.

"I missed him," she replied.

Alek remembered Maria's shriek when Bovril had jumped up onto his shoulder. "What is that _thing_?" she'd demanded.

He'd shrugged. "Bovril. A perspicacious loris. He attached to me while I was aboard the Leviathan."

"It's not right," she'd said, giving both him and the loris a wide berth as she left the room.

"Not right," Bovril had repeated, looking after her. "Deryn."

"Shush," Alek had told him.

Now he walked over and softly scratched the loris' head. "You were right," he said softly.

"What?" Deryn asked, looking up from her steadily growing list.

"It's nothing," he answered. "Not anymore." 


	6. Chapter 6

Deryn twirled experimentally, and the white-gowned stranger in the mirror twirled too. She stopped and scrutinized the reflection's face. Yes, it really was her, even if she barely recognized herself.

She tugged at the waist of the dress unhappily. Normal skirts were bad enough – this was a nightmare. Fashionable indeed – this was a punishment. She wondered if the tailor disliked her.

"You look so lovely in a dress for once," her mother sniffed into a handkerchief.

Deryn sighed and bit back a sharp retort. Working for Dr. Barlow, she wore pants as often as possible, proper or no. A day in a dress wouldn't kill her. But if anyone expected her to wear gowns often, she'd kill _them._

Her eyes drifted to one side of her mother, where there was only empty space. Jaspert caught her eye and smiled sadly, knowing what she was thinking.

"If Da were here, little sis," he said quietly, "he'd be dead proud of you. A decorated war hero, marrying a prince-"

"A _Clanker_ prince," she pointed out, but she felt better, like Da was telling her he was there, and it was alright.

"Our Deryn, he'd say," her brother continued, "always aiming higher than the rest of us. Soon you'll outrank me."

"Ah, I would have done that anyway," she laughed back, feeling better with the familiar sibling banter.

Her mother checked her watch. "It's almost time."

Suddenly, with a burst of panic, Deryn remembered what else was associated with weddings. "Jaspert," she hissed, grabbing his arm, "I don't know how to dance!"

He laughed. "I think Alek will forgive you."

"Not if I step on the toes of someone important!" she argued, imagining with a shudder Volger's look of steely disapproval. She was about to demand lessons when there was a knock on the door. Her blood went cold.

"Breathe, sis," Jaspert muttered, taking her arm. "It's just a short little walk."

"Easy for you to say," she replied through her teeth. "_You _married a seamstress." Then her mouth clamped shut, because the doors opened and she saw a huge crowd watching. For a moment she quailed next to her brother, but then she looked past the mob and saw Alek on the other side, smiling. At her.

"I can do this," she whispered, and squared her shoulders."


	7. Chapter 7

**NOTE: I've been having trouble ending this fic, because half of me is saying 'make it happy' and the other half is screaming 'TRAGEDY!' plus an evil laugh. So until I put those two halves in a gladiator-style fight to the death, I can't finish this. So for now here's a little chapter two tie in, just to remind you that even in a happy ending, someone's not going away smiling.**

Maria tries not to hate the blonde woman Alek runs to, leaving her the victim of a thousand amused or pitying eyes. She's never been particularly vindictive, but it's hard not to be now.

She knew he never loved her, right from the beginning. She'd seen it in his sad eyes, his silence, and the way his uncertainty grew as the time before the wedding slipped away. But she'd hoped…

And so now she laughs, tries to make it a joke, because the alternative is to stand at the altar and admit that her hopes, her wedding, and her carefully laid plans for the future are collapsing all around her.

It's ironic, really. Those cliché romance novels she'd sighed over when she was younger are finally coming true. Just not for her. So she doesn't cry, because that would make it harder for all of them. And _someone_ deserves a happy ending.

It's not his fault she loves him.

But she'll always be the other girl.


	8. Epilogue

**Note: So I had a continuation picking right up from the last post, but no matter how many times I tried to write it, it wouldn't work. So instead I wrote this epilogue, which is just marvelously cheery. Enjoy, and sorry this took so bloody long.**

Things never turn out the way you think they will.

You think people have changed. You think they'll have learned from that terrible, bloody thing called the past.

But history has an awful way of repeating itself.

She shudders as she turns the pages of the newspaper. Germany is rising again, with that monster of a man at its head, ready to devour anything and anyone in his way to power. And that includes her and her family.

"I'm too old for this," she mutters, but no one's the right age for war. She'd hoped, though, that she wouldn't have to see it again so soon. And now two powers are gearing up for combat, and her family may very well be stuck in the middle.

History, she's discovered, has a wicked sense of humor.

"The only thing left is for us to get poisoned on some diplomatic mission," she tells her husband.

He doesn't laugh. "Let's try to avoid that."

She sighs. She'd hoped, at her wedding, that it would fix everything. She'd get her happily ever after, and life would be perfect. It was a daft thing to hope for, and she'd known it, but for almost a decade she'd thought she'd been right.

"What do you think they'll call it?" she asks.

He shrugs. "The second Great War?"

"The Greater War?" She laughs bleakly and folds the paper, to pretend for a little while longer that everything is fine.

But really, nothing is.


End file.
